Photographs
by Addicted-To-Sugar-Quills
Summary: Neville decides to remind hogwarts what they're fighting for...Harry's parents old school friends get an owl from Hagrid looking for photo's. Oneshots set around the theme of photographs, all cannon, please r&r
1. What we're fighting for

**Photographs – What We're Fighting For**

It's his idea, the photographs. Simple he thinks as he sends away the owls in the dead of night, Aberforth lets him do it from the pub grunting about stupid ideas, stupid people – but he hands over a photograph none the less, old, faded and worn, portraying two boys- unmistakably a young Albus and Aberforth- and a little girl younger than her brothers with thick wavy blonde hair and those same grey eyes studying him from a time long past.

Ginny's reply come first, filled with envelopes containing more photographs from the other order members, meanings and dates inscribed along the back,

Hers though, is beautiful, taken by her dad Neville thinks, as he's not in the picture; neither's she come to think of it, nor's Ron but scanning the photo he realises they probably aren't born yet- Fred and George no more than babies sit on a picnic blanket outside of the burrow, Bill waves cheekily in the corner, Charlie rides on a little toy broomstick arms out stretched, playing dragons Neville imagines, remembering back to the games of his own childhood and Percy looking less out of place with his family than he has ever seen him, perched the shoulders of a tall, also red headed man who's eyes are alight, seemingly making a joke with the other man beside him –the two men are scarily alike in features and expression, with grins worthy of the Weasley twins. Turning the photograph over he sees the names _Fabian and Gideon Prewett_ scrawled in Ginny's looping writing followed by dates of birth and death _14th January 1957- 10__th__ April 1979_ and_ 14__th__ January 1957- 10__th__ April 1979_

With it comes a photo of Kingsley Shacklebolt's two sisters grinning for the camera, a picture of Andromeda Tonks and her late husband with a scowling pink haired girl, two of Dedulus Diggles hat collection, a single black and white image of Hestia Jones waving her son off at platform nine and three quarters, three from Remus Lupin, the first of five teenagers, four boys and a girl all about seventeen, arms flung around each other laughing. As he watches the girl leans in and kisses the boy with messy black hair. Starting he realises it's harry… wait…no it's not, just someone who looks very like him. Quickly he flips the photo over _left to right_ it says_ Sirius Black, James Potter_– Ah!…Harry's dad-_ Lily Evans, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew. _The next picture shows Lupin and the same pink haired girl from Andromeda Tonks' photograph, only now she's years older wearing a simple white dress, it's their wedding, he realises, remembering Ginny telling him about her "Nymphadora Tonks who prefers be known by her surname only". The third and final picture shows a tiny baby, taken from above its eyes screwed up against the flash, hair flickering between brown, purple and turquoise, labelled simply on the back as Teddy Lupin

The next owls to return are Fred and George's, two separate images that are virtually identical Fred's marked George and George's marked Fred, both twins are grinning, wearing smart dress robes outside of their shop. The last time Neville saw the Wizard Weasley's wheezes it was ransacked, the bright banners torn down and the windows filled with wanted posters for the entire Weasley family.

Oliver wood sends a picture of the 1993 Gryffindor Quiditch team – holding up the cup, eyes sparkling with happiness_, _holding their broomsticks high in victory! Where are they now though? Oliver's himself's in hiding, so are Fred, George and Angelina; Harry's away doing god knows what. He has no idea about Alicia…but he knows for a fact that Katy's dead.

Colin and Dennis Creevy have their arms around each other, in their photograph standing in the Hogwarts grounds. Sticking their tongues out, cross eyed.

Seamus slips one in to Neville's pocket the next day at breakfast – Him and Dean playing exploding snap years ago in the common room, their eyebrows singed- He finds three more in his charms textbook, Susan Bones and her Aunty Amelia at a café, plates in front of them piled high with food. Terry Boot dancing at the Yule ball with his muggleborn girlfriend Sara, Michael corner flying high, high above the snowy school grounds.

The next letters from his grandmother, _I looked through your parent's old things- here you go._ There's no explanations for these ones, its painfully obvious who and what they show. His parents young and happy looking, his mother in her wedding dress is almost unrecognisable, a far cry from the woman locked up in St Mungo's day and night, arm in arm with his father, strong and tall and with a silly grin on his face. The second, is of two women with babies on their knees, one unmistakably his mother - taken maybe a year or two after the first- and the other a red-head and a couple of years younger than his mother. He remembers her from an earlier photo – professor Lupin's – Lily Evans, kissing Harry's dad. They're Harry and him, he realizes – the babies not old enough to really know each other, but smiling all the same. Grief hits him like a punch in the gut, an overwhelming urge just to give up and move on, not to waste any more lives, and surprisingly it's not seeing him with his mum, it's seeing harry without a scar that does it, he's not the chosen one, not the boy that lived, just another kid.

Luna's are the last to arrive she send two, one of her and her father on holiday hunting nargles or crumple horned Snorzak's or whatever it is they think is real. It's a special moment he realizes, seeing Luna with her father and after looking at it he understands her a little bit more. The next is of him, Ginny and her at Hogsmeade, he remembers the day, earlier in the year before the visits had been banned, walking down in the late autumn sunshine, drinking Butterbeer in the three broomsticks, talking about normal teenagers stuff and just for a moment forgetting that they were fighting a war, forgetting that at any moment any one of them could be killed like countless others already had. He adds their portraits to the wall too, he's building up quite a collage, Cedric Diggory, overlapping Hannah Abbotts mum overlapping Madeye Moody, overlapping Dobby the house elf; all with permanent sticking charms applied to the back . He glances back down at Luna's letter and notices a scrap of parchment lying on top, her curly looping script dark against the beige paper – _remind them what we're fighting for. _That's the idea he thinks, that's the idea

After the battle the wall's in ruins , only a few photographs remain whole, the rest in tatters on the ground, but slowly, ever so slowly, new additions pop up, strange pieces of happiness from a world full of chaos, despair and horror. Neville knows then, with a sense of pride, that it did what he intended.

**Please read and review. I may turn this into a three shot about other Photographs (e.g. The order photograph from the fifth book and the photo album Hagrid gives harry in the Philosophers Stone) so tell me what you think of that idea too and if you have the time, check out my other story living up to the Legacy! Addicted-To-Sugar-Quills xxx**


	2. Old school friends

**A/N Sorry this took so long to post but I've been on holiday. A special thanks to everybody who's read, favourited, alerted or reviewed (especially I don't care what people say for being my first ever reviewer) anyway happy birthday Harry and I am (sadly) not J.K Rowling.**

Photographs – Old School Friends

"**Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos…knew yeh didn' have any…D'yeh like it?**

o.O.o

McGonagall's just a walk away; Hagrid shuffles awkwardly into her office. Wringing his hands "Sorry ter disturb yeh Professors but I was wond'rin if yeh'd any old photo's o' Lily and James, I want ter give some ter Harry."

She blinks once staring up at him "Erm…" she answers shakily "I might have a few… maybe…somewhere… I'll have a look; send them down to you later."

After he's gone she takes a small black box out of her desk drawer, faded leather peeling of the side, catch rusty like it hasn't been opened in a while -It hasn't - and inside are pictures, pictures of her students (long dead, long gone) staring up at her, memories, people, frozen forever within their frames. She roots around until she finds the one she's looking for; James is smiling, Lily holding new-born Harry in her arms. On the back James has written – in his messy joined up scrawl – _This is Harry, professor, Harry James Potter- born 31rst July, eight pounds, three ounce. One day, when this war is over, you'll meet him._

She's met him now and knows he's a perfect split… Lily's eyes, James' smile… Lily's heart, James' bravery. Her chest aches and a selfish little voice inside her head tells her to keep the picture, to tell Hagrid she couldn't find it. But no, it was Harry's, he needed it more than she did, she who had years' worth of memories, he who had barely any. It was the least she could do - give him one more.

o.O.o

Mary McDonald's (or Mary Brown as she was now known) seven year old son Kieran ran into the dining room, breakfast was laid out on the table – toast with butter and strawberry jam- and her husband, David, had just departed kissing her on the cheek as he left for his boring job, working for the most boring man alive (no-one who had met Barty Crouch could deny it) in the department of International Magical Cooperation.

Kieran sidled up to her "Mummy" he said breathlessly "Mummy, you've got a letter" he handed it to her, covered in sticky jam from his fingers.

"Thank you sweetie" she said absentmindedly, peeling open the letter

_To Mary_ It read

_I don't know if you know that Harry's come to Hogwarts this year and he doesn't seem to have any photos of his parents. I was wondering if you had any I could give him. I've written to all of the other too. Please send any you can spare_

_Hagrid_

Harry, Little Harry, somehow in her mind she always imagined him staying the little baby she'd first met eleven years ago – had it been eleven years ago, it felt as if little time had passed. She'd better send some though, she didn't know how many of 'the others' Hagrid would be able to reach – Alice Longbottom, worse than dead – Hestia Jones, moved to France, gone away – Sirius Black in jail, better than he deserved – Remus Lupin, disappeared after the funeral, hadn't heard from him since… suicide? – Gwenog Jones, playing Quiditch in Bulgaria, dancing from country to country, sending the occasional letter, a present for Kieran or a Christmas card.

How many of them would reply? How many of them would be able to? In the end she sends a few, no note attached; it's not something she particularly wants to get involved in, she's moved on enough that when Kieran asks who the letters from she just shrugs "an old friend" she says before hesitating "an old acquaintance" she amends.

o.O.o

Hestia Jones receives the letter in her Paris apartment, she wonders idly who would bother sending her an owl… she's been out of touch with everyone for years, not bothered to make new friends (to scared of losing them too). She opens the letter and gets out the step ladder and pulls open the hatch leading to the attic, from which she brings down a huge brown box, containing photos, a daisy chain, letter and the kind of love notes only Sirius Black could write – _Want to go snog in a broom cupboard._

When she looks at the photographs she's surprised at just how many of the pictures contain _him__**. **_Instantly she decides that she won't send Harry any of those, she doesn't want him to have to stare into the face of a murderer every time he wants to look at his parents. Merlin knows she has her very own living reminder, in the form of her son Evan (named after Lily of course). A small smile creeping onto her lips as she shuffles through the pictures – she'd forgotten just how happy they'd been and for a second she forgot all that had happened; then reality came crashing back and she swept the photos back into the box.

She sends as many as she can find, tracing a finger over each face as she slips them into the envelope and attaches it to the leg of her owl, Mavis. "Bye" she whispers as she watches the owl disappear over the horizon.

o.O.o

For Molly Weasley the letters a surprise, it's not as if I knew them well she says to herself; in fact she had only met them on two occasions.

On the first she had left the boys with Arthur's brother Billius (not the wisest decision as it turned out) and gone out to get a few messages from Diagon Alley, seven months pregnant and unable to apparate, she had flooed into the Leaky cauldron only to bump into her little brothers deep in conversation with James Potter ( a name she knew from her head girl duties – she'd never seen a group of first years to cause so much trouble) his arm was around a pretty girl with red hair, that Molly recognised only vaguely. Naturally she'd gone over to say hello, been introduced, sat down and drunk pumpkin juice with an also pregnant Lily, while the boys had a firewhiskey. After half an hour she'd excused herself and gone to finish her shopping, then went home to find the Burrow a complete tip. Resolving never to let Billius baby-sit again she'd set about cleaning up and putting Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George to bed.

The next time she saw them, it was April and the sky had opened up, bringing a whole new meaning to the phrase April showers. "More like April 'let's dump the Black lake on your head'" she thought she heard Sirius Black mutter. Neverless it was an appropriate day for a funeral, or it would have been if it wasn't for Fabian and Gideon – they were such sunny people, so full of life- the rain didn't quite do them justice.

Near to the end of the service Lily had come over, pulling James behind her. She noticed that he had a large ugly burn mark down the side of his face (almost a sure sign that he was a member of that phoenix society – she'd wondered since she'd met them in the bar) "I'm so sorry" Lily had sobbed, hugging her tightly "they were so lovely, such lovely people" she'd said unaware that in just over a year people would be saying the same about her and her husband.

Molly had no photographs of either meeting so, she promised herself that if she ever met Harry Potter, she'd tell him about the two times she'd met his parents, she'd tell him how funny James had been, the kind words Lily had spoken to her. She'd tell him all she could.

o.O.o

Gwenog Jones' Letter was dismissed as fan mail and binned along with the hundreds of other letters she received every month. She never got to read it, though she would have liked to have sent a picture – she keeps one of all of them in her suitcase, a reminder of her friends she can take with her as she fly's all around the world with the Harpies. She does meet Harry though, ten years later at a team after party, he's holding hands with his girlfriend, her newest recruit Ginny Weasley ( though it looks pretty sewn up and she imagines Ginny's shirt name will be changed to Potter pretty soon). She mentions his mother casually and he looks at her in surprise, she spends the rest of the night recounting their time at Hogwarts for him.

The next day at training Ginny grins at her, "You have no idea how much that meant to him" she says Gwenog nods happily, for her it's like weights been taken of her shoulders – she's finally got a piece of Lily back.

o.O.o

Surprise is Remus Lupin's first reaction. No-one except Dumbledore (with his yearly offers of the Defence Against the Dark Arts job) bothers to write any more, it's almost as if he died along with Lily James and Peter – sometimes he thinks it would have been better that way, he wouldn't have to get up every morning, grab a coffee on the way to the Muggle office block he works in; the job's mundane at best and sometimes it's enough to make him consider writing back to Dumbledore, but he's still too much of a coward, afraid to face the world.

Opening the letter, he can't help the corners of his lips turning up into a smile, not everyone's forgotten about him after all. For a moment he considers the possibility of not replying, but shakes his head – this isn't about him, it's about Harry (and Harry's the closest thing to family he's got left). He reads back over the letter '_doesn't seem to have any photos of his parents' _the phrase pops out at him; he frowns, what did you expect? He asks himself – he lives with Lily's sister, Petunia _hated _Lily.

He sighs as he tries to come up with a response, to go with the ten or so pictures he's collected, staring at the blank sheet of parchment in front of him. He wants to ask Hagrid lots of questions, _who does he look like? What house is he in? Who are his friends?_ But he can't bring himself to do it, that would be inviting a correspondence he's not ready for. Maybe in a few years he muses maybe in a few years he'll be ready to take the job, meet Harry, but not yet… In the end he settles for the bland '_I hope these are useful'_ and wishes that, just for a day, he could be a bit braver.

o.O.o

**Harry couldn't speak, but Hagrid understood**


End file.
